Short Stories at Bedtime: OnePage Oneshots
by Serrival
Summary: Let's fall into the world of curiosity, he said, and the world cracked open.  -Emil Chronicle Online-
1. Page 014: Ans

Emil Chronicle Online™ is copyrighted ©GungHo Online Entertainment, Inc. and ©Gravity Co, Ltd. Wavegame was granted the right to publish, distributed and transmit Emil Chronicle Online™ in Indonesia.

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><p>Page 014: Ans, the girl with no eyes<p>

It was an unknown disease. It had started in the black of her eyes and had slowly spread out until a dusty film of mold coated the entirety of her eyes. Not even the Head Vates could find a cure; it was decided there was none, and she would be cursed to blindness forever, if not death. While they struggled to cure her with potions and magic, the mold grew more and more until it spewed out from under her eyelids and blocked them from closing, turning her eyes into crusty chunks of rot stuffed into the eye sockets. She tried her best not to cry, and was partially successful: the mold plugged her tear ducts and trapped the liquid inside, but sobs erupted from her throat at a constant rate as the pain was so unbearable she could not stand to do otherwise.

When the infection grew too much and dirty brown liquid spurted out from her eyes, they decided the best option was to remove the withered, soggy eyeballs from her head. The eyes are dead, they said, and soon she will be the same. The operation barely succeeded. She was left in a feverish coma for days, and could not move for weeks after. But she was alive. She lived.

The screaming began after she opened her eyes. They decided to stitch her eyes shut so the inner flesh would not be exposed to open air. It would prevent further infection- infection of other people. They were still not sure how she had contracted the disease, and worried that touching anything around her eyes would spread it. It seems those who had removed the dead lumps from her sockets did so with extreme caution as to not touch anything with their bare skin.

After she made a partial recovery, they allowed her to go outside and walk around. They fenced around the pond she had fallen in, and destroyed the wells connected to it. They placed the sign "DANGER: INFECTED WATER" along the fence and by the well debris. The girl realized it after running her hand over the wood several times, but did not mention it. No one said anything about it, for all the things that could be said about it were far too painful.

They made a decision after seeing the girl smile. They told her there was nothing left here. They told her she had better opportunities elsewhere. They told her that, since there were many types of people out in the world, she would feel more accepted. They told her it would be fun. They told her that was the dream she had when she was little, and wouldn't she like to go out and explore the big wide world? They told her she had better make up her mind soon before the caravan left or she would stay rotting in her little corner of the room until she died and her parents had to excavate her from the walls and bury her in the garden next to the pet cat she had had when she was five years old. They told her they only wanted what was best for her.

She told them she would get out of their lives as soon as possible, and left a day later. She died at the hands of the caravan people, though they say a girl who looks just like her comes by sometimes, with eyes stitched closed and a face radiant with peace and contentment.


	2. Page 018: Title

When she heard dolls couldn't talk, she rummaged the underside of her bed and unearthed the ragged old Dumpty doll and sat him up on her lap. "Duncan," she said, "Hagatha said you couldn't talk."

"Ludicrous," he replied. "I can speak perfectly well. Tell Agatha what an ignorant nit she is and remind her not to assume on subjects which she knows naught." She shook her head, silver hair fanning in front of her face. "Duncan, answer me. Dolls can't talk, so what are you?" She held him up and turned him around, poking tender fingers into the stitches and gaping wounds which spilled yellow cotton over her hands. "Stop that," he snapped. "Of course I can talk; I am a broken stuffed doll. Far superior to a normal doll." She set down the harrumphing Duncan, staring off somewhere to the side. "So broken stuffed dolls have spirits in them too?"

"I suppose you can say that. And stop staring at it, or they will come bother you at night!" Duncan tapped her cheek with his limp arm and turned her face back to him. She stared into his scratched, beady eyes, turned crimson and gold by her reflection. "You'd best get some sleep before you lose what little energy you have," Duncan suggested, flopping onto the floor. "Put me back, now."

She struggled to push him back under the bed. Each night it got harder to fit him in; the space seemed to keep shrinking, somehow. She resolved to move him to her closet tomorrow. "Good night," she said. There was no reply.

"Duncan." She waved his arms in the air. They were as thick as her own, though she didn't remember them always being that big. "Do you know what the other worlds are like?" The Dumpty stared at her. "Of course I do," he started, but choked and cleared his cotton. "Well," he began again, "I am a well-traveled doll. I know every place there is to know." "Liar," she said. "You don't even have wings." She flapped her own weakly. "True, true. That was a bit of an exaggeration. But I do know many places, especially—" He stopped. "Especially what?" She asked. He paused. "Especially… the Emil World," he whispered.

"Oh." She tried to lift the doll in the air, but her tired, shaky arms couldn't hold the weight. She set him down instead. "Oh? Is that the best reaction you have?" He scoffed. "But the Emil World is so boring," she said. "They only have ghosts and a little bit of death." She leaned her head onto his hat. "I want to go to the Dominion World," she murmured, closing her eyes. He patted her. "The Emil World is more suitable. Now, put me in your closet. It's time for bed."

Her parents were out when she got home. An acrid stench hung thick and smoking in the air. The stove had been left on accidentally. Her father must have forgotten his papers since there were so many left on the stovetop. Mother would scold him when she got back; the papers had so much oil doused on them, they had surely gotten in her way as she had cooked. A rattling noise came behind her. Soft thuds against a door. The pounding sounded like Duncan.

"What's wrong?" she asked. She opened the door, and the huge doll tumbled out. His coal-black, frenzied eyes stared at her. He towered over her, hat squished against the wavering ceiling. "Title," he rasped with a fervent voice, "do you want to come away with me?"


End file.
